The Dinner Party
by J.J.M. Fisher
Summary: When the Malfoys arrive for dinner to discuss business, Damara Pucey is none-too-pleased at having to play hostess to the rude and conniving Draco. At least there is one highlight to the evening, her brother is coming home.
1. Chapter 1: Tea and Cakes

**Setting: **Between Book 4, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and Book 5, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

**Disclaimer:** All characters from the Harry Potter series are the property of J.K. Rowling and used without permission. This includes: Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa Malfoy and Adrian Pucey.

**Reason for this Fanfiction:** I saw that 'Adrian Pucey' was on the Slytherin Quidditch team in Book 1 and Book 2, but there was nothing really about him until Book 5. I wrote this fanfic before Book 5 was released, and I am not going back to fix it. Anyway I created the Pucey family with his younger, crippled sister as the main character. No, I do not believe that in true HP canon, a crippled kind-of-nice girl would have been sorted into Slytherin, but that was how my mind was working when I wrote this. Bear with me. Besides, I have always wanted to show that Draco has a nice side...even if it last for only a millisecond.

If you are looking for HP cannon, this fanfic is not for you.

**Date Written:** 21 November 2002

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**The Dinner Party**

**Chapter 1: Tea and Cakes**

Damara Pucey was curled up on the windowseat of the library on cushions and pillows with a blanket draped over her. On her lap was a leather bound book with worn, yellow pages and tattered, crinkled edges. The index finger of her right hand slowed moved across the page from left to right as she read from it. Leaning against the windowseat within arms reach was a wooden cane, curved delicately with an ornate handle.

The great doors to the library opened and a maidservant dressed in a black and white uniform enter with a silver tray in her hands. Her tidy hair was pulled back in a tight bun, not a single strand out of place. She moved across the dark green carpet quietly and set the tray on a table near Damara.

"Your tea, Miss Damara," the maidservant told her quietly as she folded her hands in front of her.

"Thank you, Ginger," Damara said quietly without looking up from the book. "But I am not hungry."

"Your mother insisted that I bring you your afternoon tea. Maggie made the cakes especially for you, Miss," Ginger persisted in a quiet tone that expressed her solemn decision to make sure Damara had the tea.

The girl softly closed the book and set it aside. She threw back the blanket to reveal a metallic brace on her left leg. After fifteen years of visiting professional physicians, mediocre healers, and even trying home remedies, Damara was certain that her leg would never be properly healed. When she was an infant, shortly after her birth, a rare disease had crippled her leg. A few of the therapies attempted over the years by physicians had healed the leg to a certain degree; it appeared healthy, straight, and the muscles normal, but Damara still could not put her entire body weight on it—the brace was still needed.

She had finally come to terms with the disability a only few years prior and no longer allowed it to prohibit a normal life for her.

"I will have a cup of tea, then, and a cake or two," Damara told the maidservant as took the cane in her hand. She limped to the table and sat down. All the time the metal brace hideously creaked and groaned.

"It seems time to re-do the silencing charm" Ginger said gently.

"Hmm..."

The maidservant gave a gentle, almost maternal smile.

As Damara poured the steaming tea into a cup and added the correct amount of sugar to suit her, Ginger went to the windowseat to straighten it up. She folded the blanket, fluffed and rearranged the pillows, and picked up the book Damara had been reading.

"What is this, Miss Damara?" Ginger asked.

Damara's lips puckered from the burning sensation at her first sip of the tea and set the cup back on its saucer. "It is just a book on herbal remedies, Ginger. I must read it for school."

"Ah, yes," Ginger replied in a conversational tone. "Fall term will start in just a week, I hear. Have you come across anything interesting?"

A smile played on Damara's lips. She reached for one of the delicious cakes. "Quite. Nothing that would aid in my particular predicament, however. The only thing that might cure my leg would be to remove the bones completely and regrow them."

"How would you be certain they would regrow straight?" Ginger asked.

"I cannot be certain, nor would I be willing to let myself go through such an ordeal. Regrowing bones is a terribly painful process, and you know I have a low tolerance for pain."

"Yes, Miss Damara," the maidservant answered. "Your father is having guests over for dinner tonight, so dinner will be a half hour later than usual and in the grand dining room."

"Really? Who?" Damara paused half way through her cake and glanced curiously at Ginger.

"A man your father works with and his family," she responded. "I do not recall his name, but their surname is Malfoy. I believe you attend school with their son."

"Yes, Draco Malfoy. He replaced Adrian as the Slytherin Seeker after he graduated," Damara reminded the maidservant.

"Ah, yes. I remember now. Tall, slender boy with blond hair," Ginger said. She smiled at Damara. "He is in Slytherin with you, isn't he?"

Damara just nodded as she finished off the last of the cake. She washed it down with the last of her tea. She stood, using the table to steady herself as her brace groaned.

"I appreciate the tea, Ginger," she said. "I think I will take a stroll through the gardens before dark."

"Do you need assistance?"

"No. I can manage perfectly well, thank you."

"Yes, Miss Damara."

Ginger lifted the tray and crossed the library to the door. Just before she disappeared, Damara called out to her.

"Would you please tell Maggie I adored the cakes?"

"Of course, Miss Damara."

The door shut leaving Damara alone in the library once more. She was not keen on entertaining the Malfoys that evening, as she personally despised the entire family, but she knew protocol. Her father was a very important wizard at the Ministry of Magic, perhaps in the running for the position of Minister, and he needed the continual support of Lucius Malfoy, one of the most affluent and powerful wizards in England. The only high point of the dinner that Damara was looking forward to was her brother, Adrian's presence.

Adrian Pucey was twenty-one years old and was working for the Ministry as well, though his specific job Damara did not know. Adrian was hardly ever in England anymore, as his mysterious job required his presence in other parts of the world. He often sent Damara posts and gifts from his various stations, and she was looking forward to what gift he might have for her tonight. Anything Adrian might give her would make up for the Malfoys' presence—that she knew.

She gathered the book and her wand from the windowseat and left the library. The halls of the Pucey Manor House were busy with servants seeing to the evening's preparations. Damara limped her way up the back stairs to the family quarters. In her room she put the Herbology book in her trunk, and she stood for a moment in view of her mirror.

Damara was not tall nor was she drastically thin. She was trim, with a moon-shaped face, waves of reddish brown hair, and a small nose over her green eyes. She could be considered pretty, but was in no way glamorous or eye-catching. The metal brace on her crippled leg was too noticeable underneath her knee-length, plaid skirt. It always drew unpleasant attention and then unwanted questions. For dinner, she decided to change into a longer skirt that would hide the brace from sight and—if the silencing charm was not replaced in time—dull the sounds it made. A few moments later, she was finished and made her way outside in the cool afternoon air.


	2. Chapter 2: Dying of Boredom

**Chapter 2: Dying of Boredom **

Evening came quicker than Damara expected, and she left the gardens reluctantly as the sky took on the serene hues of sunset. She returned to her room to freshen up and was barely finished brushing her hair when a knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. Ginger appeared.

"Your parents are requesting your presence downstairs, Miss Damara. Master Adrian and the other guests are due to arrive shortly."

"Thank you, Ginger. I will be right down."

Ginger nodded and left quietly. Some time later, Damara was downstairs in the parlor waiting with her mother and father. Her parents were dressed in nice, formal wear, though not overly nice. Her father, Brent Pucey, was clothed in a pressed black suit while her mother, Celeste Pucey, was dressed in a shimmering violet gown. Damara herself was wearing a crisp white blouse and a dark blue skirt.

Just as she thought about asking her mother to renew the silencing charm on her leg brace, there was a knock at the front door. It was followed by the melodic ring of the doorbell, and the somber-faced butler went to answer it. Moments later Lucius Malfoy, his wife, and his son were escorted into the parlor. The Puceys stood respectfully as Mr. Pucey greeted the guests and introduced his family.

"This is my wife, Celeste," he presented. "This is my daughter, Damara."

Damara took the cue and moved forward, stretching out her hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Mister Malfoy."

Lucius Malfoy, a tall, imposing figure in black, took her hand lightly and raised it to his lips. His eyes seemed to pierce into Damara's, dark and cold like an endless pit. "The pleasure," he drawled in a cold, whisper of a voice, "is all mine."

The tone of his voice gave Damara had the impression of a line so well-rehearsed that it had lost all of its original meaning. Then he straightened, released her hand, and Damara moved back to her mother's side.

Mister Malfoy continued: "You must know family, Brent. My wife, Narcissa, and my son, Draco."

Draco had grown taller over the summer, Damara noticed as the boy shook hands with her father. His blond hair was sleeked back in a similar style to Mr. Malfoy's, and his nice clothes were black as well. His cheek twitched as he glanced in Damara's direction. She did not understand the meaning behind his glance. Was it a smirk? A nervous twitch? She was relieved when the butler led in the last guest.

Adrian Pucey was tall, well built, and handsome with his quick smile. His tawny hair had a reddish sheen to it in the soft light. He greeted the Malfoys with proper respect and dignity before turning to greet his own family. He and Mr. Pucey shook hands, and Mrs. Pucey gave him a quick hug. He stepped next to Damara and smiled down at her.

"Good evening, Mara," he greeted as he took her hand and repeated the gesture Mr. Malfoy had done prior to his arrival. Only his gesture was filled with playful sincerity. "It has been awhile, eh? My, you are prettier now than at Christmas, I tell you. You better watch yourself at Hogwarts this term or you will have all of the Slytherin chaps falling off their broomsticks for you."

The twinkle in his eyes told Damara he was teasing her, but he was also teasing Draco, who shifted uneasily by his father's side. Damara laughed politely but did not reply as a maidservant appeared at the parlor entrance.

"Dinner is served," she spoke with a bow and vanished.

"Shall we eat?" Mr. Pucey asked.

He led the way to the grand dining room, talking with Mr. Malfoy and Adrian. Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Pucey, who apparently attended the same spa in Wales, followed them. Damara was left in the rear with Draco. Neither looked at each other as they quietly followed the adults down the hall.

Once in the dining room, the servants helped the guests into their seats, and Draco was seated next to Damara at the farthest end of the table so that the adults could hold conversations without interruption. The servants, dressed in parched white uniforms, prompty brought the first course and they began to eat.

It was not until the second course when the heavy silence between them spurred Damara to attempt a conversation with Draco.

"Have you practiced Quidditch over the summer holidays?" she asked as casually as she could manage.

"A little. Father has kept me busy learning his business," Draco spoke indifferently.

"Oh."

Damara had no intention of inquiring after the nature of the Malfoy's family business, as she was certain it was something dark and sinister. She gazed down at her green beans and corn, but she had no appetite.

Draco shifted nervously and glanced at her. He seemed to be struggling with something and then finally muttered a half-hearted, "What about you?"

"I have been practicing quite a bit, actually," Damara replied. "Perhaps I will make the actual team this year and not the reserves. There is an open Chaser position."

"Hmmm. Yes," the blond boy drawled hesitantly. There was a long, unease pause between the two of them. Then, finally, Draco leaned forward and whispered menacingly: "Look, Pucey. The only thing we have in common is that we both come from old wizarding families and we both are in Slytherin. I don't want this little dining party known around school."

"Don't worry, Malfoy," Damara responded in the same, harsh tone Draco had used. "I don't wish for this to be known either."

"Good. Now that that's settled, I can eat in peace."

The rest of the dinner went by slowly. Finally the adults stood up. Damara's father, Adrian, and Mr. Malfoy adjourned to the study to discuss "business matters." (Damara was curious what matters would be discussed, as she saw that all three men, underneath their friendly exteriors, seemed rather tense.) Mrs. Pucey and Mrs. Malfoy went to the parlor for a cup of tea, and Draco and Damara were left in the dining room alone as the servants began to clear away the dishes.

"Do you not have house elves?" Draco sneered.

"Of course we do. Maggie is our cook, and we have a few others that help around the manor," Damara stated firmly.

It was quite rude in polite society for someone to imply an old wizarding family did not have house elves—it was bordering on an insult—but as it came from Draco Malfoy, Damara was not overly concerned.

"Ah, so these servants must be squibs. Father has employed one or two." Draco glanced at Damara. "Is there anything to _do_ here? I'm dying of boredom."

"There is plenty. You can try the library for a good book or chess…"

"I am not a stiff, Pucey," Draco interrupted derisively. "I meant something lively and fun. Only bores such as yourself would find pleasure in those activities. After all, with a bum leg you can't do much else, can you?"

Damara stood up in a fit a rage, slamming her fists on the table and startling the servants. Her eyes blazed with anger, but her braced leg seemed to buckle under the sudden movement.

"I will _not_ be insulted in such a manner in my own house, Draco Malfoy. You—"

"Ah, watch what you say, or I might, just might, convince _my_ father to drop _your_ father like a rock," Draco retorted. He gave her a cold grin and lifted his wand. "Besides, I came prepared."

"So did I," Damara said shortly through clenched teeth.

She pulled her own wand from her belt, and the two stood pointing their wands at each other. Draco remained calmly seated, while Damara's weaker leg seemed to shake uncontrollably. Their eyes were locked in a contest of glaring, and neither one was inclined to back down. Though she stubbornly refused to give in, Damara knew her leg would not hold out forever, and it was inevitable that she would have to break eye contact and sit or risk collapsing. This battle of the wills was lost long before it was even begun... and Draco, as always, would be the victor. How she loathed him!

Her leg trembled dangerously beneath her, and just as she was going to swallow her pride and admit defeat, a small figure jumped on to the table between them.

"That is enough! Master Malfoy, you leave my mistress alone or you will pay for your insolence. Students are not allowed to do magic away from school, but we elves can do magic whenever we feel like it," the small house elf named Maggie warned.

Her tone was menacing, and her finger was lifted in warning at the boy's face. Draco relented, knowing how strong elf magic was, and his wand quickly disappeared into his robe.

Maggie nodded curtly. "Good. Now go outside or something, you troublemaker."

Without a word, Draco pushed his chair away and stalked from the room. Maggie turned to Damara just as the girl collapsed back into her own chair.

"Now what was that all about, Mistress Damara?"

"Oh, nothing really. Draco was being his usual, arrogant self. That is all."

The house elf made a "humph" sound and disappeared, most likely back to the kitchens. Damara stood, straightened her dress, and decided to go upstairs to her room. The little exchange had worn her out. She climbed the back stairs wearily, her left leg aching slightly. Pushing open the door to her room, she nearly stumbled at what she found.

Draco standing by the window, a hand holding back the draperies so he could look out into the darkness.


	3. Chapter 3: A Doubtful Alliance

**Chapter 3: A Doubtful Alliance**

Draco stood like a statue at the window looking out at the darkened grounds of the large manor, and if he heard Damara enter the room, he gave no indication of it. She stood in the doorway, hand still on the door handle, trying to keep her anger in check. She was too tired to want to deal with him right now.

Finally, the blond boy nonchalantly looked over his shoulder at her.

"Nice view you have," he remarked.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Damara demanded. "This is my room, and I want you out of it _now_."

"Hasty. Hasty. You are not being a good hostess, Pucey," Draco snickered as he turned to face her.

Damara crossed her arms over her chest. "My mother is the hostess, not me. Now I want you out of here before I scream."

"Why do you hate me so much?" Draco inquired.

"What?"

"Why do you hate me?" he repeated slightly slower.

"I will tell you why, Draco Malfoy," Damara snapped. "Because I am tired and wish to lie down, but you are being a pompous, irritating... Argh! Leave right this minute!"

Draco ignored the frustrated shout as he spied something beside the dresser. He picked up a sleek broomstick and turned it over in his hands. "Nice Firebolt. When did you get it?"

"Draco… please. Just go away." But the blond boy was ignoring her as he studied the broomstick. Damara gave an exasperated sigh and finally gave in. "Father bought it for me about a month ago."

"Hm," Draco responded. "I've had mine for almost a year now. Shame last year's Quidditch was canceled, eh? The Triwizard Tournament wasn't that exciting, anyway, without a Syltherin champion to compete."

Damara's eyes narrowed slightly. "I found the tournament thrilling enough until the last challenge, and it was terrible... what happened to Cedric."

"You sound like a sniveling Hufflepuff," Draco chortled. He set the Firebolt aside. "Why are you in Syltherin anyhow? You certainly do not seem the type to me. You're a book worm, goodie goodie, and you never seem to remember the oath of our House. I bet you don't even know the meaning of Syltherin Solidarity."

"My family has always been in Slytherin," Damara stated matter-of-factly. "Perhaps it is because we are purebloods, or we are ambitious, or we have quick tempers—I do not know which. I _do_ know that the Sorting Hat placed me there, so there is where I'm supposed to be."

"Could the stupid old hat be wrong? I doubt it has a perfect record over hundreds of years and millions of students."

"I have never heard of a student being sorted wrong."

"Curious because I, for one, never thought a cripple could ever become a Slytherin." Draco stepped closer as Damara's jaw clenched. "You are always wearing ankle length skirts. Can I have a look see at your bum leg?"

"Absolutely not. That is indecent, Malfoy," Damara almost growled in indignant anger. "Not to mention _rude_."

Draco seemed slightly disappointed. "Well, disability or no, I believe you should wear the exact same uniform as everyone else."

The boy was speaking of Damara's special exception to the dress code. The uniform at Hogwarts was a white blouse, House tie, gray blazer, and—for boys—gray slacks and—for girls—gray knee length skirts. Over the uniform was to be worn their black school robes. Damara was allowed to wear an ankle-length gray skirt to hide the braced leg. She found the exemption to the rule quite relieving, preferring not to let anyone see. Only a few Slytherins of her class knew of her disability, and absolutely no one outside Slytherin, beside teachers, knew of it.

"Think as you will, Draco, my uniform was approved by Headmaster Dumbledore. Now will you please leave me alone?"

Damara's leg was beginning to shake again, which was a hint for her to sit down. However, with Draco occupying her room, she was not about to sit on the bed. That would be quite awkward.

"Oh, alright."

Draco crossed the room and passed Damara. She moved to the edge bed and slowly sat down, the pressure on her leg vanishing immediately. The boy halted at the door and turned around, eyes flashing mischievously.

"You know why my parents brought me along tonight?"

"No, and I really don't care."

"I will tell you anyway, Pucey," Draco replied with a sly smile. "My father wants to unite your family and our family. A Malfoy-Pucey alliance would be the greatest wizarding line ever. Not that I care any, but I thought you might be interested."

"You're lying," Damara snapped.

Draco just smiled. "Good night, Damara."


	4. Chapter 4: Wizards Billiards

**Chapter 4: Wizards Billiards**

She sat in shock, staring at the vacant doorway. She honestly could not tell if Draco had been messing around with her or telling the truth. She hoped it was not true, a union between the Malfoy and Pucey families was _not_ a pleasant thought, but when she reflected back on the evening, it did seem that the adults were purposefully keeping Draco and Damara together. And—this struck her the most—Draco had called her by her given name, something she knew he had never done before in the four years they had known one another.

Perplexed, Damara opened the heavy lid to her trunk at the foot of her book. Beneath the school uniform, robes, books, parchments, and other items was a false bottom. She tapped the top right corner with her wand and the secret compartment opened. Inside was a black leather book with _Damara Leigh Pucey_ in gold lettering across the cover. She took the book, an inkwell, and a quill. Lying on her stomach on her bed, she opened the book and took the quill in hand.

_Something strange just happened._ She wrote on the thick page. _Father had the Malfoys over for dinner—Draco was here as well._

The ink disappeared and reappeared in a new sentence. **Tell me what happened, Mara.**

Damara sighed and began to retell the whole evening as best as she could remember. Every now and then the diary would ask for a clarification, but otherwise it was silent. Damara ended with: _What should I do? Is Draco telling the truth? Or is it just one of his nasty tricks?_

**It is difficult to judge. It seems to me that Draco enjoyed telling you that, and by using your given name he seems to be telling the truth. But I do not know for sure.**

Damara shook her head. Usually the bewitched diary was able to shed new light on a difficult situation, but it seemed that it was helpless in this.

**Sorry, Mara.** The diary wrote.

_That is all right. I better go downstairs before my parents suspect I abandoned them._

**Goodnight.**

She shut the diary and returned it to its secret compartment. Though she was disappointed the diary did not have an answer, she was calmer now that she shared her feelings with another. She would have to thank Maggie again for the diary—the house elf had presented the diary to her as an eleventh birthday present to take with her to school (though Damara always suspected Adrian was truly behind the gift). Whoever was responsible, the diary had helped her get through some extremely trying times over the passed four years.

Mr. Pucey, Mr. Malfoy, and Adrian were still in the study. The yellow light streamed underneath the closed and locked door into the hall, and Damara could hear masculine voices inside as she passed by. Mrs. Pucey and Mrs. Malfoy had moved to the lounge, but Damara was unsure what they were chatting about. Her mother gave her a piercing glare as she paused by the opened door, and she hurried onwards so not to attract any more attention.

Draco, she discovered, was in the Billiards Room attempting to pocket the colorful balls. The difference between the muggles' game of billiards and Wizards Billiards was that the balls tended to float above the table, making them harder to hit and aim correctly. Because the balls floated, the table layout was slightly different as well; the pockets were higher than the tabletop. Nonetheless, the game was usually fun to play.

As Damara entered the wood paneled room, Draco had hit a red ball that hurtled out of control and bounced off the far wall before coming to a stop above the table. Damara could not resist an amused chuckle.

"Nice shot," she commented wirily.

Draco looked upset. Damara limped over to the racket on the wall, selected the proper stick, and moved to the table. With a smile, she took aim and skillfully hit the red ball. It sped into the corner pocket. With a grin, she took the chalk cube, dusted the tip of her stick, and then casually blew the excess away. Draco's face screwed up.

"What do you expect, Pucey?" he sneered. "I haven't played Billiards for ages. We don't have one in our house."

Damara got the distinct impression that a Billiards table set was now at the top of Draco's wish list. She smiled wider.

"Do you want to play a game?" she asked him. "Just for practice, of course."

Draco shrugged.

One game turned into five. Damara beat Draco on the first four matches, but Draco began to catch on to the various methods of hitting the balls. He won the last game even without Damara going easy on him. To her surprise, after the first game, Draco had lightened up drastically. He was friendlier, told a few jokes, and even laughed and smiled. When Damara gave him a few pointers, he did not even snap. By the last match, she was actually beginning to enjoy Draco's company.

A knock on the door interrupted the set up of the sixth game. Damara looked up.

"Yes?"

A servant entered and nodded his head. "Excuse me, Miss Damara, Mister Draco. The Malfoys are preparing to leave."

"Thank you, Karl," Damara said quietly. The servant disappeared as she turned to Draco. "It has been fun."

"Quite so," Draco agreed. He hesitated a moment. "Ah, Damara."

"Yes?"

"Don't tell anyone about this," he ordered. The usual harsh tone had returned to his voice. "I have a reputation to up hold, after all."

Damara just smiled. Draco's friendliness vanished immediately, and the cold, indifferent, smirking boy she knew from school had returned. The two left the Billiards Room and met up with the adults in the foyer. Mrs. Malfoy had donned her shawl, and Mr. Malfoy was shaking hands with Adrian and Mr. Pucey.

"Ready, Draco?" Lucius Malfoy asked. His dark eyes glanced at Damara, who stood silently near her mother.

"Ready, sir," Draco replied. He shook hands with both of the Pucey men. "Thank you for having us over tonight."

"Our pleasure, lad," Brent Pucey replied with a smile.

The butler opened the front door, and the Malfoys left. Almost immediately, Damara's mother turned towards her.

"Damara, dear, it is well passed midnight. You ought to go straight to bed."

"Yes, Mother," she answered quietly.

"Good night, Damara," her father called as he led his wife towards his study.

"Good night."

She slowly returned to her bedroom upstairs where she readied herself for bed. Despite being wide awake moments ago, she was now feeling the strain of the evening. She was about to blow out the candle on her nightstand when Adrian knocked on the door and entered. A wrapped box was in his hand as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Brought you something," he said as he handed the box to Damara.

She unwrapped the gift and stared at it with a smile. "German chocolate! Oh, Adrian, you are the best older brother in all the world."

"But of course," he good-naturedly bragged. "I received Father's owl just three days ago, and I hadn't yet bought you anything. I was hoping that the chocolate would do for now."

"It is wonderful! Tomorrow we'll share it," Damara said cheerfully.

Adrian shook his head. "I will be gone when you wake up, Mara."

Her face fell. Her brother usually spent a week at home before leaving again. "Why so soon?"

"Tonight was a business trip. I'm expected back in Germany tomorrow afternoon."

"Adrian, what exactly do you do?"

His eyes twinkled, and he smiled softly. "It is top secret, Sis. Ministry thing, you know. Good night and sweet dreams." He leaned over and planted a kiss on her forehead. "Don't you worry—you'll see me at Christmas."

"Good night," Damara called as Adrian left the room and closed the door behind him. She set the box of chocolate on the nightstand, blew out the candle, and snuggled deep into the covers. Within moments she was fast asleep and, oddly enough, a certain blond-haired, pompous, self-absorbed Slytherin plagued her dreams.

THE END.

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**Auther's Note:** Since I decided to end this short little story here, I never got to a point where I could fully explain what it was Mr. Pucey, Mr. Malfoy, and Adrian were discussing. I will say this: Mr. Pucey and Adrian do not work for the Ministry like they claim. I wanted to portray a different side to the Death Eaters... what they might be like in their own homes with their families. "How could such a great guy like Adrian be a death eater?" is what I wanted to hear. Unfortunately, the story's end just felt right here instead of writing any more. I did try... once ...but it was all wrong. So I leave the rest up to your imagination. I hope you enjoyed this little tale! 


End file.
